


My Love

by jumpStart (ouija)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Engagement, Fluff, M/M, and justin timberlake, lots of fluff, with a side of cheese
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-29
Updated: 2012-09-29
Packaged: 2017-11-15 07:00:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/524465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ouija/pseuds/jumpStart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My voice wavers in the slightest, anxiousness melting to a different emotion, one I couldn't put my finger on. He blinks away the first welling of tears and listens attentively, waiting for me to continue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Love

**Author's Note:**

> this is so fucking cheesy i'm embarrassed u//u  
> had it done for a while and decided to post it now

Was this a normal day? Or was this something special? Something exciting and foreign but all together quite terrifying? I think so. My hands shake as an affirmative as I fiddle with the velvety black box in my hands. I’m not sure I’m ready for this. More specifically, I’m not sure _he’s_ ready for this. Oh god, I hope he is. I clear my throat, a deep awkward noise that made sure I would gain more attention than necessary. Shit. Who would have thought that I, a man of many words, mostly consisting of spiraling metaphors about human male genetalia, would be speechless? Actually, it’s not that surprising. I was quite soft-spoken as a child and would probably still be to that extreme extent if not for my friends and significant other. Oh, that’s right, I’m about to do something. No need to be off track at such a critical point in my life. Breathe in. Now out. Better.

“John?” The syllable comes out as a weak, trembling creature, not the intended effect. I sound like I might burst into tears at any moment. To be honest, I wouldn’t be too shocked if I did, I’m overwhelmed at the moment. 4 seconds. I need four seconds and I should be fine. The clock in my mind ticks 1...2...3...and 4 exactly. I move my mouth to speak again, this time more confident in such speech. “John I gotta tell you somethin’.” This time it’s more of a command and I cheer myself for it, although the party is brief because the next thing I hear are footsteps and my heart plummets into the acidic depths of my stomach.

"What is it Dave?" He walks over to me, lanky but precise steps and a shiver wracks my poor spine. My hands are shoved into my hoodie pocket to conceal the box, and I smile, small and half-limp to preserve my image of 'calm and collected' in front of this man. A hand comes out of hiding to scratch the imaginary stubble on my face. Bro always said that to be a suave-ass dude you have to know how to clean up, but hell if he ever taught me how to shave. I had to learn from Mr. Egbert. There goes your moral support Bro, right down the drain never to be seen again.

"Oh it's..." As my voice falters once more, my stomach ties itself in painful knots, ones that were sure to take hours in order to carefully unwind. Train of Thought, where are you? Worse case scenario is that I have to use my impulsive responses, and lord knows how that mess will turn out. Nine seconds this time.

"It's alright, Dave. You can tell me." 3...2...1. He knows my head's in a wreck. Fuck. A knot loosens though, and I feel a breeze of relief as his soothing voice penetrates my ears. He puts a hand on my shoulder, willing all my current worries away if only for a second, and I allow myself a soft sigh. I can do this.

"Okay..." I grasp the hand that was on my shoulder in my own two, craning my neck to place a peck on the back of his chocolate-skinned appendage. Dang, I really love his skin tone. Heated and lively, my sickly, freckle dusted shade of amber meaning nothing compared to the vivid, earthy colour his melanin produced. He looks down, a warm smile on his face, and a hearty chuckle booms through the room. There goes my nervousness, here comes the plan.

I release him, dropping down on one knee and rummaging my pockets for the smooth cube. Deep breath and sixteen seconds. My tongue aids me in the task of making a ticking noise, something that would seem as if I were impatient if John didn’t know it meant that I’m edgy. A hand goes over his mouth, wide blue eyes threatening to spill tears at what I'm about to do. The shades come off. This has to be perfect. They're neatly folded in my back pocket, hoping that I remember them and that they don't meet their demise under my plush rump. Seriously though. I look up, fiery red battling watery blue as the small container opens, gentle notes slipping from my lips to form a song. Justin Timberlake. "If I wrote you a symphony, just to say how much you mean to me, what would you?"

My voice wavers in the slightest, anxiousness melting to a different emotion, one I couldn't put my finger on. He blinks away the first welling of tears and listens attentively, waiting for me to continue. I do, albeit the oddly timed pause--seven seconds. That isn't even a perfect square!-- gracefully hitting the notes of the next few verses with practiced ease. As cheesy as we both realized this was, it was a moment to remember, and as I kneel on the uncomfortable carpet of our apartment's living room, soft box open to display the shimmering ring, I come up with no regrets.

As I finished up the first repetition of the chorus, John makes me stop, gaze locking with mine as liquid flows freely from those beautiful azure orbs. I stand, shove the ring in my pocket and he hugs me tight, tears leaking through the fabric of my jacket as he chokes up, emotion overflowing the room. My palm goes to his hair to stroke it, soothing caresses as I mumble nothings into his neck. When I think he's mostly cried out I pose the question. "So... 's that a 'yes' or an 'oh god yes'?"

He sniffles and lifts his head, rubbing his red nose before nodding, a quick and firm movement that left me admiring his instant regaining of composure. "Both." A grin splits across his face, his gorgeous face as he kisses me square on the mouth; filling me with his passion; his respect; and furthermore his pure, unadulterated love for me. I respond promptly, contributing my share in the feelings jam between our lips, lacing my fingers together behind his neck. I'd be more than glad to stay like this forever, but my legs tire far too quickly for anyone's liking and I force John to spin around the living room with me until we fall onto the sofa in a tangled mess. He giggles and I punch him in the side, only causing the squeaks to escalate to full out snickers and snorts. The sounds are too ridiculous to be angry at him, so I decide to give in, smothering him with my laughter as he coats me in his. We continue this until we're breathless, wishing the heir could revive our air-parched lungs but to no avail.

"Hey Dave? What're we gonna do for the wedding?"

"Didn't think that far."

"Dave? You forgot to put the ring on my finger."

"Oh."

“Are you gonna?”

“Maybe.”

“David Q. Strider, I demand that you speak to me before I spew all of your deepest secrets you’ve whispered to me late at night over the past 5 years.”

“Y’heard those? Also, m’ middle name doesn’t start with a Q, nice try.”

My unresponsive attitude must’ve gotten to him because, he sighs and shoves a hand into my pocket, easing the ring out of its carrier and sliding it onto his finger. It looks exquisite with his complexion, silver over a creamy milk chocolate, the spoon in hot cocoa. I’ll never get enough of his skin, his voice, his everything and anything and knowing that it’s all mine makes the craving all the more powerful.

“D’you like it?”

John nods and smiles sweetly, kissing me on the forehead and snuggling closer on the couch. I hear a faint snapping noise and bolt upright, assessing the damage of my shades. Just a bent arm, no biggie. I kiss them on the bridge and sit them on the coffee table, he looks at me like I’ve gone mad and I flash a lopsided smile, going back to hug away his jealousy or whatever. “Dave?”

“Shhhh... No talkin’. Just cuddlin’.”

**And we did. Just cuddle.**


End file.
